i am freaking crying what in the world

BTS winning album of the year
  • Mc: and the winner is..Bangtan Sonyandan!!
  • Jimin: bawling his eyes out while looking at Tae
  • Jungkook: Jungshook
  • Taehyung: shocked af and is starring at Jimin
  • Yoongi: pointing at himself cluelessly
  • Namjoon: who is bangtan..? Is it us? Where am I? Why they looking at us?
  • Jin and Jhope: silently freaking out on the inside then burst out in tears
  • Jimin to himself: dammit I'm a man I can't cry (few minutes later)
  • Jimin: sniffing and crying live in front of fans while he doesn't actually have a clue about what they just won..

Sam’s been watching the same infomercial for the last hour and a half, eyes red and burning from the tears that are starting to gather there but he uses the corner of his sleeve to angrily wipe them away before they have the chance to fall and clicks the tv off, bathing the cheap motel room in darkness.

There’s an aching worry in his chest and a knot in his throat. The alarm clock reads one in the morning, they should have been back by now and Sam’s quickly losing his wits. He hears the familiar rumble of the impala seconds before he sees the headlights flash bright, breaking through the blinds and he jumps to his feet and throws open the motel door.

The panic that he’d been somewhat successful at supressing now bubbles forth at the sight of Dean, slumped forward against john, his pants completely covered in blood and he rushes to his brother’s side

“Heya Sammy.” Dean says as he tries to smile at his brother but then sucks in a sharp breath at the stabbing pain that shoots through his body.

“Help me get your brother inside.” His father commands but Sam can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

“What happened?” He asks but doesnt give John time to answer. “You were supposed to protect him!” He yells out, not caring if anyone can hear them.

“Not now boy.” John commands . “Help me get your brother inside so I can tend to his wounds. He’s already lost quite a bit of blood.”

The words hit Sam like a freight train and he pushes past the anger and shoulders most of Dean’s weight as he helps his dad carry his brother inside and lay him on the bed.

He hurries himself getting hot water and fresh towels before coming back to Dean’s side. Watches as his dad uses the scissors to cut up the entire length of Dean’s jeans and pulls back the material to reveal an angry set of gashes that are still bleeding profusely. His hands are shaking as he rings a washcloth out and tries to wipe up the blood that’s running down his brother’s thigh as their father gets to work suturing up his wounds.

He’s not sure how much time goes by but every second feels like an eternity. Dean’s out cold, either from the pain or the medicine, and Sam hopes it’s the latter.

Dad’s no comfort, drinks himself stupid with a bottle of Johnny walker black and passes out in the other bed leaving Sam alone with his grief. He gently crawls into bed with his brother, easy not to jostle him, and tries to focus on anything but how completely useless he feels.

His pillow is wet with tears and he tries to quiet the sobs that are escaping from his chest but they’re violent and they threaten to break Sam apart from the inside out.

“Sammy,” He hears his brother whisper weakly against his back. A warm hand cards through his hair and he squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath.

“Sammy, it’s okay.. I’m okay little brother.” He tries to soothe but it just makes the tears come harder.

“Look at me,” Dean says. “I’m fine Sam. Look at me.” And he turns around and buries his face into the crook of Dean’s neck.

He holds Sam close as he cries, hand gently rubbing his back, both calming and stirring the desperation he feels.

“Figures,” Sam says as he wipes at his tired eyes. “That you’re the one who’s hurt and you’re trying to comfort me… I’m a horrible brother.”

“No you’re not Sam.” Dean whispers against sams cheek. “Don’t say that. Besides, I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

He raises his head up, finally looking into those moss-green eyes and sighs.

“I was so scared.” He admits. “It’s just- I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

“Hey,” Dean smiles. “You’re never gonna loose me. You’re stuck with me for life.” He adds and Sam smiles back… I love you, he thinks. “I hope so.” he says instead.


Morning brings with it a false sense of calm that’s shattered the moment he opens his eyes and looks at Dean. His face is littered with at least a dozen cratches, some more prominent than others, and his lip is busted open. There’s a quarter size bruise under his right eye and it takes him a minute to push down the urge to cry again. He grabs some chapstick from the night stand and gently applies some to his brother’s lips, careful not to hurt him. Dean opens his eyes and smiles.

“Is it time for my sponge bath Samantha?” Dean teases, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Shut up jerk.” Sam says back without any real heat but can’t help the blush that colors his cheeks.

“Make me bitch.” His brother quips.

“Alright you two,” comes a familiar bark as the motel door opens.

“I’ve made arrangments for you both to stay at Bobby’s while he and I wrap this hunt up. I don’t like leaving it un-finished.”

“But dad,” Sam interrupts. “Dean’s hurt, he’s in no shape to travel.”

John runs a calloused hand down his face and sighs. He doesn’t want another fight with his youngest. “You think I don’t know that Sam? I do, but cash is low and I can’t leave you two here. I’ve no other option but to take you to Bobby’s. So, get your gear together, we leave in twenty.”

A million things he’d like say come pouring into his head but every. single.one. dies on his lips when Dean squeezes his hand softly; a silent plea to just let it go. He drops his head and grabs his bag, a quiet “ yes sir” leaving his burning tongue.


The ride to Souix falls is just as bad as he thought it would be. Dean’s in the back so he can stretch out his injured leg so that puts Sam up front with his dad. Great.

Two and a half hours later they finally arrive. Sam hops out and rushes to dean’s side, carefully helping him out of the impala, ignoring all of John’s efforts to help, and slowly makes their way inside the house where he deposits Dean comfortably on Bobby’s couch.

Bobby claps John on the back and asks if he wants a drink and as a suprise to everyone, himself included, he turns it down.

“Just wanna go ahead and get on the road.” He says, back turned to the boys and lowers his voice. “Besides, I got a feeling that boy is probably thinking up ways to murder me in my sleep.” He says and motions his eyes to where Sam is sitting at the foot of the couch, Dean’s injured leg propped up on his lap. Bobby laughs, but John’s half serious. John runs his hand across the back of his neck.

“I wish I was kidding Bobby. You should’ve seen the looks that boy gave me everytime I hit a bump or took a turn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous John” Bobby says, turning around ignoring him completely.

“Boys, there’s fresh sheets on the spare bed upstairs or you can just let the couch out if you’d rather. Also, the fridge is full, help yourself… Oh, and Sam.” He says at he stops in the door way. “I just got a new book on Celtic tree magic. If you find time, you should check it out. It’s an interesting read.”

“Thanks uncle Bobby.” They both say in unison as the door shuts leaving them in the only house that’s ever been close to being theirs.


Dean naps on and off most of the day which leaves Sam with way too much time on his hands. He aimlessly walks the halls, skims through the book Bobby recommended and scours his library for anything else that might peak his interest. He finds it hard to concentrate though, constantly listening for any signs that his brother might require his assistance. He’s hovering, he knows, but he can’t help it. He wishes there was more he could do for Dean. Wishes that it would have been him instead. But mostly he just wishes his dad would stop putting the job before them and that their life didn’t have to be so fucked up.

At four thirty Sam sighs and makes his way to the kitchen to prepare some food for them while Dean flips through the channels on the tv. A small oven fire and three episodes of Mash later and the spaghetti and garlic bread is done.

They eat in silence, enjoying a home-cooked meal for once and afterwards Sam cleans Dean up and changes his bandages.

“Well?” Dean asks. “How bad does it look?”

It’s not nearly as awful as Sam thought it was gonna be and it’s definitely not as panic induing as it was watching their father sew him up but looking at it still makes his chest ache.

“It’s healing nicely.” Sam says trying to keep all emotion out of his voice but Dean can always tell when Sam’s holding something back.

“Then why do you like you’re about to cry Sam? ” Dean asks suddenly sounding as hysterical as Sam feels. “Am I gonna lose my freaking leg?”

“No.” He half laughs, shaking his head. “It’s just been an incredibly emotional couple of days and these,” he says looking down at the angry red gashes, “are a painfully vivid reminder of how close I came to losing you.”

Dean looks at him with something unreadable in his eyes and squeezes his hand.

“I meant what I said Sammy. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“You can’t promise that Dean.” He says suddenly sounding so much older than just fourteen.

“You and me against the world little brother.” He promises.

“Always.” Sam says on cue and re-bandages his leg in silence.

Later, when he’s done washing up the dishes and the small disaster he left from eariler, he makes his way back into the living room to check on Dean.

He’s all stretched out, his right leg propped up on a stack of pillows, face scrunched up in sleep, head lax and layed back against the arm of the couch and Sam is overwhelmed with how damn beautiful he is in this unguarded moment. He walks back through the hallway to the bathroom and gets two white pain pills out of the medicine cabinet and brings them to Dean. Tips the cup gently towards his brother’s face, encouraging him to swallow them down.

“You take such good care of me Sammy.” Dean says, eyes shinning bright as he stares up at his brother, still half asleep. Sam smiles back and wipes a drop of juice off Dean’s chin.

“You ready for bed?” He asks suddenly nervous about the prospect of trying to get Dean upstairs.

“Yeah, but let’s just stay here.” He says patting the couch underneath him.

“Well, let me pull the bed out Sam insist but Dean’s having none of it. He reaches forward, hands wrapping around Sam and tries to pull him down on top of him.

He’s got the annoyed little brother routine down pat but if he’s being honest, with himself at least, he wants nothing more than to fall down into the embrace and live in that warm cocoon of Dean’s arms wrapped around him.

“I think you’ve had too many pills.” He laughs and gently moves Dean to the chair while he unfolds the bed and gets it ready.

They lay there listening to the storm that blew through about an hour ago. The October wind, howling past the window, but Sam can’t seem to care from his current position curled up against Deans chest.

It’s a peacful moment as they both drift off to sleep to the sound of each other’s steady breaths.


At some point in the early hours of morning Sam’s eyes flutter open on a sigh, toes brushing Dean’s foot as he rocks his hips slightly foward before he comes to enough to realize what he’s doing.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly says and goes to pull away from his brother but Dean gently grabs his arm and pulls him back close.

“ It’s okay,” Dean says and for a minute Sam’s brain, still hazy with sleep, doesn’t know how to react.

Dean’s warm hand comes to rest at his lower back. Fingers trailing goosebumps across the tiny strip of skin that’s peeking out from over his boxers.

“Dean?” He whispers, voice heavy with uncertainty but he can’t deny that he wants this. Even if he doesn’t entirely understand what this is.

His cheeks are burning hot as he hesitantly rocks forward, his hips grazing Dean’s un-injured thigh and he squeezes his eyes closed and does it again. And again. And again.

It doesn’t take long before his dick is dripping, soaking through the threadbare pair of boxers he’s wearing and he can’t stop the little half broken sobs from escaping his trembling lips.

Dean’s hand fists in Sam’s grey t-shirt urging him closer, simultaneously rucking his shirt up in the process. Sam shifts, trying to get better situated, and sucks in a suprised gasp as his hard prick drags against his brother’s.

“Yeah, Sammy. That’s it.” Dean says encouraging him, pulling him even closer. “Feels good baby brother. Keep going.”

“Brother.” That word sounds dirty givin the context of what they’re doing and it should feel wrong as hell but it doesn’t. Dean’s words only seem to fuel Sam on, his small hips picking up speed and the friction is great but it’s not enough.

“Dean.” He calls out but he’s not sure what he’s asking for just that he needs something more.“ Dean seems to understand completely and pushes Sam’s boxers down, quickly following suit with his own and brings their hard lengths together.

The skin to skin contact is a shock to Sam’s system, and his toes curl and the grip he has against his brother’s bicep tightens.

Dean has his hand wrapped around both of their lengths, slow drag up circling the head and then back down again, their shared precome slicking the way.

"Kiss me Sammy .” He urges and his brother complies crashing their lips together with awkard grace. It’s messy and uncoordinated but it’s perfect because it’s Sam and Dean thinks that he could die right now with the taste of Sam’s lips on his tongue and not have a single regret.

Sam’s balls pull up tight, spine tingling with the sudden rush of his orgasm. He tucks his head into the hollow of Dean’s throat and shutters as he paints his brother’s belly in white.

At the First hot splash of Sam’s come against his throbbing dick, he’s joining his brother over the edge. Both sweating and panting, each other’s name on their swollen, spit-slicked lips.


It’s quiet in the shared space between them, and neither of them speak for several minutes unsure how to start a conversation after what they just did.

“I didn’t hurt your leg did I? Sam asks a little cautious. Waiting for Dean to freak out any minute now

"No Sam, you didn’t hurt me.” He says as he slowly adjusts himself into a sitting up position.

“Not gonna freak out Sammy.” Dean says, somehow reading his brother’s mind. “But I do need to ask if… I mean, you didn’t feel forced into that did you? Cause if you did,” he begins but Sam stops him before he can finish that train of though and scoots up close so he can look into his brother’s tear-filled eyes.

“No Dean. I didn’t feel forced. I wanted to do it. If I’m being honest, I wanna do it again.” He says and hides his eyes feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“You mean that?” Dean asks. “You really want this Sam…. You want me?”

“Yeah” He says on a whisper and tentatively lowers his lips to Dean’s. It’s just a peck really, whisper-soft against Deans mouth but it’s the emotion behind it, the love that pours out from Sam with the small, simple gesture and it’s ridiculous but Dean already knows he’s never gonna get enough of this.

“No take backs Sammy.” Dean breathes into his brother’s mouth and swallows up a moan that crawls it’s way up Sam’s throat.

“No take backs.” His brother promises.


When Sawada Tsunayoshi woke up as a baby, he didn’t cry, he just stared at his mother as if wondering what world he had come to. Babies weren’t supposed to be like. They were ‘pure’ and ‘innocent’, yet why did this odd child just stare? He had knowing eyes looking straight into people’s souls.

Brown eyes were supposed to be filled with wonder or pain because, why am I here?

But they were dead and blank.

Nobody knew how to fix it and it freaked everyone out.

For the first few months he was quiet, his parents were starting to think he was mute. No, he just stared blankly at everything.

Then the parents found out that his eyes couldn’t see any color.

Everything went down.

“Why did you give birth to a defect?!”

“Why did you have to be born?!”

All the while, as his parents argued their senseless battles, he just stared.

Babies don’t know anything except cry.

But he didn’t.

He did not demand attention.

He didn’t want to.

So, in his crib he just listened and stared at everything. So… quiet. Sometimes his mother forgot to feed him.

He was raised until he was 3, but no love or affection was given to him.

“Who would love such an ugly, weird child?”

Then, one day, in an act of desperation, of pure pain; his parents left him on a door step of a church.

The church’s orphanage seemed to be a good place.

It seemed to be a good place.

Tsuna among others were taken care of until they can work, until the age they can do the work.

The nice sisters they knew when they were little became devils.

How ironic.

They forced the able children to work, to clean the church from day on end.

No love, just coldness.

But even then, Tsuna had a friend.

She was a very optimistic girl, always laughing and smiling.

As if pain couldn’t paint her pure white canvas.

They were always together, helping each other.

Until years later, when they were 10, something happened.

Tsuna was on bell duty that day.

Father was going on a trip to another church. It was good, nobody’s going to shout at them and tell them what to do. It lessened the harsh treatment.

Up went the tall stairs to the bell tower.

He was alone, not like the other days where he had an older kid with him.

Tsuna walked up but stopped at the curious little room he found a bit odd to be placed.

Curiosity was what killed the small bit of innocence he had.

He peeked into the room; he heard ragged breaths and sinister laughs.

When his eyes finally made out what was in the room, he stumbled and covered his mouth to prevent himself from vomiting.

His friend, his true friend was there. Sitting on the Fathers’ lap, naked and twisting in pain.

She was moving up and down but it was forced while the Priest sat there with pink cheeks and a greedy smile.




Tsuna didn’t know what he was doing until the last moment when he opened the door wide open.

His best friend stared at him in shock and shame.

Father didn’t seem to think so.

“What’re you going to do? You can’t do anything. Why don’t you come and join us?”

It was the first time Tsuna saw something besides black and white. It was bright and blinding.


Before he knew what he was doing, Tsuna walked to the Father.

“Oh? Going to join? Come here.”

Tsuna glared at father and slowly climbed to his lap.

He strangled him to death.

He felt bigger and stronger; full of anger.

The father fought back but he couldn’t specially since the bone in his nape snapped and he was suddenly limp.

Tsuna looked at his best friend. Brown-orange eyes widened when he saw her bleeding and panting.

Life burning away

She smiled a tired, pained smile before Tsuna reacted and extracted her body from the dead priest.

“Tsu-tsuna, remember when we were small? We wanted to run away and live another life.”

Tsuna didn’t say anything, just stared at her. Eyes filled with unknown emotion.

“Please get away from this place and live. I will always be there for you. I will see what you see, feel what you feel.”

With one last smile, she died.

Silent tears fell from Tsuna’s eyes. There was no bright color anymore. It was just the same goddamn grey.

He cried his tears out and slowly dressed his best friend.

I will leave you with some decency.

He made her body sit at the steps, looking as if she was sleeping.

Sleeping for eternity

He locked the door and continued up the stairs. He rang the bell and he quickly made his way down.

He ran until he was outside the church, everyone was looking at him strangely, why is he crying?

He didn’t care if he was being chased.

He ran and ran. He didn’t care where he went, he just ran until he was tired and was walking aimlessly among the crowds of Japanese people.

The church was almost isolated from the whole city of Namimori because it was a place of prayer.

Dazedly, he looked around the place. It was a market, or what he thought because it was busy.

His worn little legs carried him.




He bumped into someone, a man in a traditional Japanese yukata with glasses.

He didn’t seem dangerous at all.

Tsuna’s eyes widened he saw color again.


The color was engulfing him like flames and it was beautiful.

“Hey, kid, are you alright?”

That was the last question that rang in his ears before darkness embraced him.


Six long years have passed since that incident. He lived away from Namimori and had taken up residence in Tokyo. Tsuna had started seeing flames on people and he didn’t know why.

Bright colored flames, his savior, Kawahira had called, Dying Will Flames.

“I’m not your savior, kid. You saved yourself.”

He said that it was a dormant quality in human beings that was only brought out when there’s a life or death situation.

A will to live

There were special people that could manifest the flames and use it to fight.

And those special people normally belong to the mafia, something Kawahira was reluctant to tell him about but did so anyway.

For six years he learned a lot of things about the mafia and wishes to stay far, far away from it.

“You have sky flames kid. They would want such a rare jewel.”

So, he started –insisted- on having a slightly normal life. He went to school and is now a first year in high school with normal grades and no friends.

“Acquaintances are good but you don’t need anything other than that.”

Along with that was the training he underwent with Kawahira. To protect himself from the mafia, he was grateful for it.

This was his routine until he was a third year in High School, where he decided to move out because Kawahira was going back to Namimori.

“I don’t want to go back to that place.”

He left a sum of money until Tsuna can stand on his own feet. They lost contact with each other but they knew where the other could be found.

Two years have passed since then, Tsuna is now a second year in college, studying Economics.

His world was still the same. Grey with colored flames on people. He sustained himself by doing multiple part-time jobs; a cashier at a local fast-food chain, a staff at the book store near the station and a waiter at a café.

Overall, he seemed like a normal person. He works hard at school and at work. He was well-liked by everyone.

Well, he seemed to be.

He trusted no one. (It was discreet, of course.)

He was very cynical of everything.

He was always alone.

I don’t really care what others think.

All he wanted was to graduate from college, get a job, when he gets enough money, build a business and then die.

It sounded dull but he was dull. Nothing in this world was interesting anyway.

The only thing that interested him now was photography.

That was ironic; he didn’t see any color other than the flames but he took great shots. The photography club said so. (He joined on a whim.)

It was nice, he guessed, but in order to get a really good camera, you have to spend money. So he worked hard until he got a DSLR camera, his very first. He treasured it like there’s no tomorrow.  

Photography was in a way, a hobby.

It was nice, having something that he could create.

It made his dull, gray days more content.

He was content.

Like a moving picture in magical movies, the mafia just came in.

He was working at the café that day. Wiping the table outside the store when a man in a suit came in front of him; he had cold, black eyes and a fedora.

Tsuna deadpanned at him, silently observing him. Bright flames engulfed him in a mysterious way.


“Yes? What can I help you with?”

The man didn’t answer at first, allowing the light of the moon to illuminate his dark frame.

Dark, baritone voice rang from the man, “Yes. I am looking for someone named, Sawada Tsunayoshi.”

It registered quickly to Tsuna that this guy was from the mafia but there’s no use lying.

“Yes, that’s me. What do you want?” Suspicion ran through his head.

“Ah, that’s great. I just wanted to talk to you about your parents.”

His parents?

Images of papers from the orphanage about someone leaving him outside the church doors resurfaced in his mind.

His parents left him to die outside the cold doors of a church.

What do they want now?

“What about my… parents?”

I don’t even know you.

The man cleared his throat, “I’m Reborn, I’m a friend of you father. We’ve been looking for you.”

Why would they look for me after so long?

It sounded fishy.

“Will you please come with me?”

Tsuna frowned. This is ridiculous.

“No. I will not.” A firm voice that surprised even Tsuna himself said.

Reborn sighed, “Then, I’ll just have to force you to come with me.”

You’re going to force me?

Tsuna pursed his lips and glared straight at the man, “That’s called kidnapping, Sir. Please leave if you’re not going to order anything or else, I’m going to call the police on you.”

With that, Tsuna turned his back on Reborn and made his way to the door.

Or at least tried to, when he felt something cold pressed against the side of his head. “You were wide open.”

A silent shot was fired and nobody saw Tsuna get back from his cleaning duty outside the café.

Welcome to the Mafia.


When Tsuna woke up, all he felt was numbness. Next, it was arguing voices. The voices were familiar, from a dream, a daze in a long time. He opened his eyes to stare at the white ceiling of a room. The voices seemed to have stopped.

His dead eyes swept across the room and he found it bare. It was suffocating, he wanted to get out. He tried to sit up from the cold ground and winced in pain. He looked down to see a dress shirt and slacks on him; his vest was removed from his uniform.

Where am I?

Tsuna stood up and walked, a clinking sound, his right foot was chained.

I feel like a prisoner.

The only door in the room opened to reveal a man in a suit. He was burning.

Dimmed Orange

He was a large man and he walked with a purpose, eyes set straight at Tsuna’s prone figure. He stopped in front of Tsuna and took the chains away.

“Tsunayoshi,” The man started as he looked at dull, blank eyes. “Do you remember me?”

Confusion swam in Tsuna’s being. He had not met the man but he seemed eerily familiar; a memory from a forgotten childhood.

Tsuna kept his blank expression and said in an equally blank tone. “No, who are you?”

He can see the sigh from the man’s eyes. “I’m your Father, Sawada Iemitsu.”





Those were the feelings that ran through Tsuna’s unreadable expression. It’s been too long, he didn’t care anymore. His parents didn’t come to get him from that orphanage, no thought or love or longing was given to them, only hate.

Why should I care about you?

Why should I acknowledge you?

No fucks given, Dad.

They stared at each other until Iemitsu, Dad, became impatient and just asked him to come.

“You will meet somebody important today.”

Tsuna just followed through, never once saying anything to his so-called Father. They walked up and down, left and right, it was dizzying. Whatever this place is, it’s like a maze.

The mafias’ like a maze, once you get in, it’s hard to get out.

Finally, when they reached a certain floor, they used an elevator up. After a few minutes, they got out and walked into a luxurious floor with maids and butlers running around and stopping to bow at Iemitsu. They stopped at the end of the long hallway, in front of large double doors.

Iemitsu knocked twice and a small confirmation to come in was heard. They entered the room and Tsuna stared at an old man sitting in a throne like chair with the man who kidnapped Tsuna leaning on a wall.

A very dim flame surrounded the old man.

A dying orange

Two chairs were in front of them and Iemitsu gestured for Tsuna to sit down as he too did so.

This must be the Boss.

Tsuna stared at the old man in question, he seemed kind but one can never know.

The silence was thick, no one wanted to speak and everyone was staring at each other as if treading on an unsafe road.

“Tsunayoshi,” The old man started, “I am Timoteo, the Ninth Boss of Vongola.”


What did the most powerful family in the world wanted from him?

So many questions rang inside Tsuna’s head but the Ninth Boss continued, “I am old without any heirs,” a sharp stare was directed at Tsuna. “Without a choice, I am forced to make a decision to make you, Sawada Iemitsu’s son, my heir.”

You are forced at that rate?

“Don’t you have sons?” The old man looked at him in sadness.

“They’re all dead.” Tsuna’s expression did not change.

“I see, what gave me the right to be a candidate?”

“Your father,” Tsuna inwardly winced. “Is a descendant of the first boss of Vongola, Giotto.”

Tsuna remained silent, taking the information in.

Timoteo looked at his successor with a calculative gaze; this boy is different from his sons or any other person in the mafia. He sat up straight with dignity, eyes unreadable with unknown emotions. What happened to this child? He’s been living a normal life from what he’d heard; he should not be like that.

“Do I have a choice on this matter?” The boy finally asked.

The Ninth Boss of Vongola was taken back by the blunt question. On the corner of his eye he saw Reborn look at the boy with strange, sharp eyes. Iemitsu seemed to be stunned to silence.

It felt as if he was negotiating for a very important ally so he chose his words carefully, “Yes, you have a choice.” He paused, treading on unfamiliar waters. “But know that whatever choice you may make, it will either destroy the mafia or change it for the better.” A pointed look directed at the boy, “It all rests on your hands.”

Do I even want that kind of power?

I don’t even care about the mafia. I just want to live a normal life.

Tsuna looked straight at the Boss, “Do you really want me to be a Boss? I know you don’t have much of a choice but are you sure with that decision?”

“You see, I don’t see colors, I’m practically color blind.” He continued not letting the old man speak. “When I was a baby, because I have this condition, I was given away to a church, a church where apparently child labor was a thing and where priests rape young girls until they die.”

Shocked eyes stared at him but he still went on. “I ran away when I was 10, surprise. I’ve been living on my own for the last 9 years, trying to live a normal life and then my supposed Father comes in and says that I’m the heir to a mafia family. Look, I’m practically a stranger, are you sure you want to hand the mafia in my care? I might even destroy it inside out.”

A firm gaze was directed at Timoteo and he felt the authority of a Boss, “And, what if I say I don’t want to inherit this Famiglia and let’s say… live a normal life?”

A stunned silence followed the speech; everyone seemed to be taking their time to digest it. The silence was too long and Tsuna stood up, “Timoteo-san, to be honest I felt that I had no real choice, no matter what I do, it seemed that any wrong decision I make will haunt me for eternity. I will think about it, please have me escorted out.”

Timoteo cleared his throat and called out a name in Italian, a man in a butlers’ suit came from the door. He bowed and greeted the old man in their language.

“Please escort this boy to a room and allow him to rest.” The butler nodded and gestured for Tsuna to follow.

Tsuna stopped before the door and looked back at Reborn. “Oh, and before I forget, kidnapping is illegal, you should know that, Reborn-san.” He exited the door and Reborn hid his smirk behind his fedora.

This will be interesting

anonymous asked:

um, tell me about changsub-chorong?

more about this movie date down below but first of all they are official best friends how cute is that 

they have been referring to each other as their best friend/ my only friend/ my one and only (chorong’s word not mine ok) ever since debut 😭😭😭  it is so cute they are so cute they are so cute together their friendship is so cute

they got into cube at around the same time and according to them btob and apink trained together for the most part? changsub and chorong are same year friends in fact changsub is like 2 weeks older than chorong and they get along so well they understand each other communication is the key to a healthy relationship!!!!!!! their nickname for each other changsubbie and chorongie it is just so cute everything is cute and i am hurt and they always call each other when they have to phone a friend on shows (all the links and photos will be down the keep reading dw) if you have follow me for more than a week you know how much i talk about btob’s cool man it is not just because it is one of the best, most funny show ever put together but also because okay in epsiode 4/5 they have to each call a friend and make them say what they want them to say and chorong instantly answered after changsub nagged out his situation as usual with “i know the answer you want to hear but i dont want to say it ” 😭😭😭 they know each other so well and every year at changsub’s birthday she will post a photo/photos of them and a birthday message that is so freaking sweet and ok chongrong mentioned changsub in her album thanks to a few times aksdlaksd;al everyone knows btob and apink are super close (ilhoon and naeun are family friends, namjoo with minhyuk and sungjae, bomi with ilhoon and eunkwang and all that) and okay below the keep reading is some of my favourite changrong moment they are always taking pictures together, if not just chill around each other and they always joint hand that shit is so cute wtf are we in high school 😭 (warning: it is really super long and its just the tip of the massive changrongiceberg ) both of them are both so smol, scream a lot, afraid of height, soft and sweet they are just meant to be okay ask yourself how often do you have straight ship that is cute, healthy and ongoing? they are honestly everything you can ever ask for the dream ship pretty much every k-netizen ship them hardcore (same) and there are so many changsub-chorong analysis post on pann #blessed please be together or not be together because if they ever break up i wont be able to handle it 

Keep reading

As Blue As The Ocean

Author: the-stressmushroom

Word Count: 2k

Rating: PG

Warnings: Swearing?

Authors Note: FLUFFFFFFFF! (First time writing fluff)  PLEASE GO VOTE FOR ME IN THE PHANFIC AWARDS @phanfic​


My name is Daniel James Howell and I am in love with Phillip Michael Lester.  It sounds easy enough.  He loves me, I love him, we live happily ever after right?  Thats what we deserve at least.  Phil and I deserve happy.  But, of course, nothing can ever be perfect.  Phil and I cannot do things other couples can.  He thinks we should, but I am afraid he might get hurt.  You see, Phil is blind and he has been since birth.  He is very capable considering his disability, yet, he still cannot see.  Ever since eighth grade, when we first met, I have been his best friend, and his guide.  I am his eyes, and I always will be.  I’m fine with that.  I fell in love with him the day I met him, and I will gladly lead him around this world if that means I get to take every breath of my waking life by his side.  His beauty is beyond measure and his personality is so kind, it could change the world.  I don’t deserve him, but somehow, I am lucky enough to be with him.  And I am even luckier that such a wonderful man loves me back.

“Dan?”  Phil asks, clutching my hand tightly.  I caress his skin with my thumb and turn my head towards him, admiring the way the moonlight bounces from his porcelain skin.
“Yes Phil?”  I reply, scooting closer to him on our checkered little picnic blanket, enjoy his warmth.
“Could you describe the sky for me?”  I smile at him.
He has always been fascinated with the sky, longing to know what it looks like.
It has always puzzled him about how the sky changes.  He can’t quite grasp the concept that the sky looks different at different times of the day, or during different seasons.
I turn onto my back at stare up at the vast night that lay out above me.
“Tonight Phil, the sky is dark, but clear.  Not a cloud in sight.  The color is an inky black, almost how you would imagine jealousy looking.  But it is not off putting, it is inviting.  And the inky black is layered with a blanket of twinkling lights, stars.”
Phil’s eyes light up at that. He loves stars.
“Are there lots of stars out tonight Dan?”  Phil asks, burying his nose in the crook of my neck.  I sigh, pulling him closer to me.
“Yes Phil, there are millions.  And they all shine for you.”  He giggles and I can feel a bubble of warmth grow in my chest.
“Do you think I will ever be able to see them?”  Phil asks, his eyes wide and unfocused, like always.  He has asked me this before, and I never know how to answer.  Sure we have looked into.  There are surgeries now that can re-attach the severed optic nerves that prevent him from seeing, but the success rate is so low and the complication count is so high.
“I don’t know honey.”  I wish I did.  But I just don’t.  I know it’s his life and he can do with it what he will, but how could I ever let him dive head first into an extremely dangerous operation?  
“Dan, are you okay?”  Phil brings me back from my thoughts and I lean down to kiss his forehead.
“Yea Philly I’m fine.  Why do you ask?”
“You’re just being uber quiet tonight, it’s not like you.”  I can hear the worry in his voice, so I kiss him again, this time on the lips, trying to release some of the tension that has filled the air.
“I’m fine, trust me.”  I say, sighing.  We spend a few more minutes in comfortable silence, just enjoying each others company.
“I love you Dan.”
“I love you too Phil.”

“Dan!”  Phil shouts from the kitchen.  I shoot up from my sitting position and rush to his side, thinking something is wrong.
“Phil! Phil, are you okay?”  I say, a bit out of breath from the sudden burst of exercise.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine.  It’s just Dr. Moore wants to speak to you.”  I grunt in response, taking the phone from Phil’s grasp, more than a little pissed that Phil is now snickering about how out of breath I am.
Dr. Moore is Phil’s eye doctor and therapist, and has been since we first moved to London.  He is excellent and is always trying to find new ways to help people like Phil.
“Hello Daniel,”  Dr. Moores voice pours out of the phone receiver, “I am calling to inform you that Phil has been selected for the clinical trial of a new procedure that may be able to fix his eye sight.”  I nearly choke on my saliva.  Phil might be able to see?
“What are the risks Doctor?”  That is always my number one priority, Phils safety.
“Well, so far, none.  It has been very successful-“
“Then we will do it.”  Phil is going to be able to see.  We have to do it.  No risks?  No problem.
“Are you sure Daniel?  What does Phil think?”
“I’m sure he will say yes.”  I know he will.
“All right then, come into the office at 8:30 AM next Monday, I will email you with all the information you will need so that you may prep for the surgery.  I’m so happy that you were so quick with your answer.  See you Monday.”
“Thank you Doctor.”  I choke, tears threatening to slip down my face.
“Dan are you all right?”  I here Phil call from the other room.  I walk in and sit down in front of him so that I can look him in the eyes.  Though they are vacant, I know it makes him feel better when I treat him as though they are perceiving.
“Yes Phil, I’m wonderful.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m happy!”
“Because you are going to see.”

It’s Sunday night and I am freaking out.  The operation is tomorrow, and Phil is the perfect picture of serenity; not a worry in the world.  
“Dan, come here sweetie and relax.  Sit with me.  I need you to do something for me.”
I put down the packet Dr. Moore had sent over hesitantly, and plop down next to Phil.
He turns to face me.
“Dan, can you describe to me what you look like?  Like what you really look like.  Not some half-assed answer.  When I can see, I wanna be able to compare your answer to mine.”
Phil had asked me to describe myself in the past.  I hate how I look, I hate thinking about how I look, but I will do it for Phil.
“Alright.  I’ll do it.”  Phil smiles at me, and pulls his legs up underneath himself.
“Well first off, I’m tall.  Freakishly tall, but luckily your pretty tall too so it’s less awkward.  I have a boring hair color that matches my boring eyes, brown.  Brown is the same color as a lot of gross things in this world, like dirt, but it’s not all bad because it’s also the color of coffee and chocolate.”  Phil hums at that, he does have quite the sweet tooth.
“And my eyes aren’t all brown I guess.  They have a bit of amber in them.  Amber is the color of honey, and sunlight, so I guess having that in my eyes makes them a bit special.”  Phil smiles at me.  I hope he knows how hard I am trying right now.
“My face is average, I can’t really describe it to you and my skin is pale, but not as pale as yours.  I’m not fit in anyway, as I have a bit of pudge around my tummy and-“
Phil cuts me off there.  
“I think your tummy is perfect.”  He says, laying back on top of me and resting his head on my chest.  I spread my legs a bit more so we can both be comfortable and I put my arms behind my head.
“There is not much more to say, except that I have one dimple.  A dimple is like a little dent in someones cheek that appears when they smile.”
Phils eyes glitter.
“You sound beautiful.”  I sigh, he always says that.
“I’m really not, especially in comparison to someone as gorgeous as you.”

“Dan, can you describe me?”  I look down at him puzzled.  He has never asked me to do that.  Now that I think about it, why hasn’t he ever asked?  I mean thats a pretty standard question.  I know I’d want to know what I look like.
“Phil, you are light.  You shine so brightly it hurts because you care so much.  You make everyones day a bit happier and it shows.  Your skin is perfect, porcelain white like snow, and your hair is black as night.  You have a radiant smile that is completely contagious and never ending.  But there is one thing about you that I love the most. Your eyes.”
His smile falters at this and his head turns to face me.
“What’s so great about my eyes.  They’re broken.”  He looks as though he may begin to tear up, and I raise my hand to caress his cheek.
“Just because they are broken, doesn’t mean they aren’t beautiful.”  I smile down at him.
“Your eyes are glorious.  They sparkle whenever you are happy, and look like crystals when you are sad.  Their color is mesmerizing.  They are as blue as the ocean on a sunny day and have flakes of gold in them like you captured sun beams in your heart the day you were born.  Everything about you is beautiful and perfect Phil, especially your eyes.”
He sits up, and bites his lip.
“Dan, I’m nervous for tomorrow.”
“It’s okay baby, me too.”

The hours pass slowly.  I’m sitting in the dank waiting room biting my nails, which became nubs long ago.  My foot has not stopped tapping since I sat down, and my heart speeds with each passing second.  I am praying to every god that may be for Phil to get through this safely.
“Mr. Howell?”  The doors to surgery swing open and a nurse waltzes out.  
“Yes?”  I say, my voice cracking a tiny bit.
“The Doctor would like to see you.”
Time stops, my heart drops, and my head fills with shouting.
The only word being shouted is Phil.
The nurse leads me back to Dr. Moores office, and he surprises me with a smile.
“Daniel,” he says, his voice light.  “The surgery was a complete success.  Phil now has his sight.”
I cannot stop the tear from falling and I don’t give a flying fuck.  My baby can see.
“He is going to be extremely sensitive to light in the beginning, but soon, he will grow accustomed to it.”
I nod.  I really do not care.  Phil can see.
“Would you like to go and see him?”  Dr. Moore asks.  I try to find the words to answer him, but just nod as I cannot construct my thoughts into words at the moment.  A smile is permanently plastered to my face.
“Right this way then Dan.”
We walk quickly down a few long hallways until Dr. Moore stops in front of a recovery room, I reach for the handle and look up at him, asking permission.  He nods, and I burst into the room.
And, there is my Phil, sat on a small hospital bed, in a white gown, examining his own hands with a look of wonder on his face.  His eyes are brighter than I have ever seen them.
He can see.
“Phil, the doctors said the surgery was a success baby!  What’s it like?”
Phil has yet to look my way, he is still examining his own hands, turning them every which way, fascinated.
“It’s a bit over whelming I will admit, but-“
He looks up at me and gasps.
“What, whats wrong?”  Is he okay, is he hurt?
“Nothings wrong.”  He says smiling, a single tear dripping down his face.
“You’re just so beautiful.”

[Age of Youth Episode 10]

I know a lot of us have been disappointed to not get as much of Ji-Won as we would like but after this episode, I don’t think we need to. She is the heart and soul of that apartment. She loves and observes and just wants her family to be happy probably more than she wants the D. 

I was crushed to learn that she lied about the ghost just as I’m cackling gleefully that she’s developing a spiritual sense in the eleventh hour. Without her, these girls would be so lost, and I think it’s really important to have a character like her, who is nice and uplifting, and reminds those around them to be a little bit better, to understand others without all the information. She is pure empathy and we really need more people like her in the world. She is good and relateable. She makes people feel important and necessary without sacrificing herself.

Ye-Eun’s prayer at the end killed me. I am not a crier. Writing has to be freaking amazing to get me to cry. Not an episode has gone by that my eyes haven’t been wet. I’m going to be so sad when this is over because I love how tight the writing is. It was the same during White Christmas–not a single wasted moment. I think I will give this writer a shot no matter what the project in the future.

Other favorite moments include:

  • Eun-Jae being this…force of responsibility with her mother. It was really sad to see who the parent in their relationship really is, but Eun-Jae can get things done when she wants to. I’m really curious how she’s going to handle the investigation into her father’s death. I hope the girls can protect her.
  • Ye-Eun’s friends sticking her in the middle to protect her from interacting too long with Asshole Boyfriend. It’s good to see friendships outside of the apartment. Ye-Eun is eating all the things and excited about it. I’m so glad she had them and that they praised her for a job well done. Maybe a bus will hit him next time.
  • YI-NA GETTING THE BED READY FOR JIN-MYUNG TO SLEEP WITH HER. I also loved their conversation about the shoes. Jin-Myung’s voice was so soft and broken and Yi-Na tried so hard to remind her that she was strong and worth it. I loved that they knew something was so desperately wrong when Jin-Myung wore the shoes on her date.
  • And god, that date. Just…that date.

I hope the show tells us what really happened in that hospital room. I can’t imagine the pain of having someone you love stuck between living and dying. I don’t know what the laws are in South Korea in regards to situations like these. I just want all these girls to be okay as they take their next steps.

And I want Eun-Jae to talk to Jung-Yeol about something real. This episode wasn’t about them but I missed the hints that they talk to each other, like the times they were texting, and that adorable conversation in episode nine about spies and aliens.

But one thing is for sure. I will probably be a wreck at this time next week when this is all over.



My very dear and lovely @taylorswift :

Taylor Alison Swift, I’m gonna try one more time to make you notice me because I’m seriously going out of my freaking mind. So if you see this please answer me or follow me or I’ll cry untill you do :)

I actually don’t know how to start, and I won’t tell you everything I feel by a post on tumblr since I have faith and I believe that maybe someday I’ll have the chance to hug you and tell you everything I feel for you, face to face.

I am beyond proud of what you are now, I see you now and I just can’t believe everything you’ve achieved, all by yourself. But I know that deep inside of the biggest singer in the world lives the little curly teenage girl, our country singer, the girl that was afraid of haters and afraid of falling in love.

I actually never went to any of your concerts, but I’m 100% sure that your voice is as peaceful as in my phone or my laptop or my tv haha, your voice brings me peace and joy and the girl with that voice is my pride, my angel, my sunshine and a huge part of my happiness.

Please never stop smiling, because it may sound cheesy but that smile lights up my days, somehow you manage to light them up, even the darkest ones.

I really hope to meet you someday, that’s one my extremely goals in life, to hug you, to see your beautiful smile in person and to make you laugh too because I have so many jokes (I rule at that), and obviously to tell you how much I love you, but like I said before, face to face. I want to have the chance to talk with you and to be part of your life for at least one day. You talk about fans and you talk with your fans like they’re one of your biggest treasures and that’s like the 39859467472878473878672487 reason why I love you and admire you so much. Thank you for being that amazing.

I promise to be here in the good and the bad times, to support you no matter what and I promise to love you until I can’t love anything more, but above everything I promise to never leave you because once a swiftie, always a swiftie.

-Nicole @thesprksfly

pd: My mom says you’re really pretty, sweet and dedicated, besides, she shakes it off with your songs. She actuay loves you and I know she’s a secret swiftie but she’s just hiding, or at least trying ;)

pd of pd: I hope you could visit my country someday, so please, give Honduras a chance.

anonymous asked:

No the world would be a better place if u gays weren't here

Oh no is that you again? What part of “please leave my blog and never come back” did you not get?

Ok so let’s get one thing straight: My blog is NOT. I’ve dealt with a shit ton of homophobia in my life so I came here to have a 

and I am in fact enjoying the one damn place where I can post about my feelings and freak out over my crushes without people leaving me. You probably want me to feel shitty and cry again but I’m not gonna let it happen this time. So anon, have some water and PLEASE NEVER COME BACK THIS TIME.

i don’t care about sports at all but the cubs are in game 7 of the world series and wow. i am sobbing watching right now. my older sister, erin, loved the cubs. we are from chicago and so we all love the cubs, but my sister dude…she loved baseball and she loved the cubs so much. ugh. omg. she passed away when i was 10, but this has reminded me so much of her and i am so grateful for it. she would have been sooo freaking happy to see them in the world series. i can’t even imagine how happy she would have been. 

i feel like i can see her smile and i haven’t felt that way in so long. my entire life is so removed from anything and everything to do with her. but here i am 16 years after she passed away and i am crying in my apartment thinking about the older sister that i loved and wishing that she was here and wondering what she would be doing or thinking or saying. i am so grateful for this. 

Can I just say that I am really fucking proud of...

…every single person around the globe that joined the marches today/yesterday? Peaceful protest, hell yeah! I have felt deeply devastated about the state of the world for the past few weeks. Worrying, despairing, crying. Now I’m sitting in my bed at 7am and looking at all the coverage of those marches around the world and I’m crying to, but because of happiness, of pride and because this is what hope and unity feels like. You/we freaking rock, ladies! And I’d like to thank every single one of you for making me feel like it’s not the beginning of the end, but only the start of a resistance and movement that’s stronger than any political party or president could imagine! Thank you for reminding me that we are not worriers, but warriors! Thank you!

I’m so thankful to be in this fandom. 

It’s so full of warmth and generosity, and it sure isn’t perfect by any means, but at the end of the day, we’re all here to celebrate something we all love, and those moments when we can all sit back and scream at each other in incoherent squealing sounds, those are the moments that make my life so freaking awesome. 

Fandom in general has done so much for me as a person, and all my years of meeting new people, forming bonds, building friendships, all of that has made me who I am today. I’m so thankful for all you wonderful people, you truly make my life so much brighter, and it’s an honor and a privilege to be included in such a great world.

So thank you for being here with me, for joining me, for making what the real world calls crazy into something incredibly normal, for reading what I write, for crying with me over stupid gifs and laughing with me over dumb inside jokes and really, just existing.

I’m so grateful for all of you. Even if we don’t talk, or if we talk every day, or if it’s random messages here or there, or only likes and reblogs from either of us, please know that I love the hell out of you, and I’m so thankful to have you in my life.